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And To Think... I Was Ready to Shoot Him!

Howdy Folks!
A recent conversation with my wife went very much along these lines:

"What can we do about that last attack?" My wife asked.
"Well, considering the available answers, maybe the best way to deal with him is simply to take him out and shoot him!"
The wife replied, "You really are bleeding badly here".
"Yeah, he got me real good this time!" I said while trying to stop the blood flow.
"Wouldn't shooting him be a bit drastic?" she asked.
"What better alternative do you think we have? Who will he attack next? What if it's some kid? We can't take that chance! He wouldn't feel it. Not really. One .40 cal through the skull and it would all be over in an instant!"

Sounds like stuff you'd hear if you walked in on the middle of an action movie, but it is the very real and entirely serious discussion we had.

Now for the background of the story.

We had a beuatiful Russian Blue cat who had shared our home for nearly 20 years. But he became very ill and we took him to the vet. Shortly after we arrived there, knowing what we needed to do and feeling somewhat guilty about not doing it sooner, the vet put Pyewackett to sleep for the last time. We were very sad. He was a terrific cat. He was a wonderful companion, especially for my wife.

The best way to cope with the loss of a pet like that is to focus on the other critters that share our home. We have a Jack Russell terrier (Gator) and another cat, a yellow tabby named Talisman. But decided that there are many animals in desperate need of a loving home sitting in shelters right now, and their only hope is to be adopted by somebody before the clock runs out on them.

While visiting the Brighton Animal Shelter, I spied this nice little cat and asked about him. He was a medium hair cat maybe 4 to 6 months of age. I asked to handle him and he was just fine. I called my wife to tell her about him and she went to the shelter to see and handle him as well. We decided to bring him home and make him a part of our lives. Sounds like a great start to a new chapter of our critter continuum.

But once we got him home, I picked him up and he suddenly bit down on my forearm and sank those fangs of his clear down to the bone, while clawing the crap out of my little Irish skin! This was the first of several attacks that were suffered by both my wife and me.

We decided to call a location up north to see if they could find him another home, maybe as a barn cat on somebody's farm. They agreed to take him, but when I got there, they refused to accept him. The word 'feral' was mentioned, and they'd have no part of him at all. On the way back, I stopped at Brighton Animal Shelter to ask where they'd found this cat. "We caught him in a live animal trap!" Ah... so he was likely a feral cat. He wasn't socialized and was, true to the term, a wild cat.

Since he'd been chipped at the shelter when we adopted him, we couldn't simply release him into the wild. We talked about putting him in a shelter, but knew that his behavior would end him up in a cage marked "Bite Report" and nobody would take him home, putting him on the list for euthenesia. No "no kill" shelter would take a feral cat because they'd never be able to find a home for him. We considered having him put to sleep, but did not really want to kill him when we'd invested both money and blood in this little beastie!

Then he tore into my hand really badly one day when I was working with him. He ripped through the webbing between my fingers, latched onto my left arm and tore through the skin, and clawed me to shreds in an attack that was both sudden and vicious to an extreme. It was on the heels of that particular incident that my wife and I discussed taking him out and putting a bullet through his little skull!

I decided to put off any decision until after I'd thought about it awhile. My temper was white hot, and that's a terrible time to make any decisions at all. After I cooled down, I decided on another course of action. I started scanning the internet on how to tame a feral cat. I studied up and did a good deal of reading to learn how we might transform this demonic little ball of fur into a half decent companion animal and pet.

To make a long story short... or perhaps longer still....

I did not shoot the new cat. Because it was touch and go, and because his continued existence was questionable, we named him Hamlet.
Yeah, the name fits. Hamlet. "To Be.... Or Not to Be!!! That is the question!". There were real questions about whether he would continue "To Be!"

Still, after I cooled off from the last attack, I started working with him and using the information I'd learned from the internet. My wife also worked with him and we talked with animal behaviorists about how to change his behavior. We applied techniques that were recommended. We've made strides and he is becoming a decent little cat. Our senior cat, Talisman, has taken on the chore of socializing this young upstart and behaving like an uncle or older brother to get this juvenille straightened out.

Now Hamlet is turning into a really nice cat. I still watch his body language like a hawk because he can turn on a dime and clamp down on an arm or hand, so I don't yet trust him, but I haven't seen my own blood for a few weeks now. It is getting much better.

In the end, I believe he will become a terrific pet and wonderful addition to our family. He is coming along, and has even climbed up into my lap once or twice. And he's just as cute as can be. We find a great deal of amusement in some of his antics.

And to think.... I was ready to shoot him!
Kinda glad I decided against that!

Personally, I don't trust any cats, and refuse to have any on our property. Over thanksgiving break, a friend and I were pheasant hunting in Kansas when I was attacked by a feral cat. I had the sense to backhand him off my chest before shooting him! I got some real nice scars from him. Then there was also that feral cat that killed half my chickens, or the cat that attacked me when I was 18 months old. Guess cats and I just don't get along!

I still wouldn't trust Hamlet around ANY kids - ever! Not worth the lawsuit (especially since you posted about this particular cat's history online, where it will live as evidence forever in cyberspace).

Glad you didn't have to shoot him! I presume you already had him declawed and the blood is being drawn by his sharp vampire fangs (teeth).

We had a cat that knocked out both his fangs on a window as he dove at a bird sitting on the other side. He was fine after recovering and had no problem eating. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to have those twin daggers removed as a precaution.

I got lucky when choosing my cat. Back when I had a roomate, his cat had 4 kittens. One of the kittens would always want to hang out with us instead of the other cats so I picked him to be mine.

He is awesome with people and you can pet him anywhere and he just loves it. Quite a big difference from my family cat as a kid! Man that damn cat would "love bite" you when you pet him and you just didn't want to have him rub against your leg or anything because you were almost guaranteed to get a bite.

Howdy Folks!
My wife and I have always been extremely lucky when adopting a cat. While I was always fond of dogs, never really much of a cat fancier, we've had more than a few that converted me to love both cats and dogs in our home. Our luck didn't hold out on this latest cat, and he proved himself to be challenging, to put it mildly.

While in the flash of anger when he bit me bloody, I gave serious consideration to shooting him. After all, I have the hardware to do that particular chore. But when I calmed down and thought things through, decided he has a right to live too. Don't really know what caused him to be this way, but believed he could be tamed if given time and attention. Who knows what he had to deal with while running wild. Maybe he had to fight for his very life more than once. Really, no different than a human who wants to live. Maybe he regarded me and the wife as some sort of threat. The chore seemed to be one of teaching him to trust us.

Now he is becoming a pretty nice little cat. It may take awhile to completely abandon his agressive nature, but I think it can be done. He's already much improved. But we won't be having any kids in the house for quite some time, and probably lock him away in another room if we do!

One of these days, we'll look back on this turbulent period and laugh about it. That ain't likely to happen anytime soon, but it will come!
Meanwhile, I will continue to open carry, just in case!
(gratuitous OC mention to keep it on-topic).

Howdy Amigo!
Why of course! The shelter in Brighton is run by the animal control division of the Brighton Police.
So why wouldn't I walk in with a pistol open carried?
And when we had this little guy neutered, I open carried to drop him off. Later, when I fetched him home, I again open carried.

When I took him to the shelter up north, I open carried.
When I stopped at Brighton to find out where this cat came from, I open carried.

I guess I just sorta figured everybody would assume I was open carrying because I did so everywhere I went.
If I couldn't open carry, I didn't go there. So I guess I figured everybody would know that I would be open carrying.
Looking back, the cat was a more formidable weapon. Wonder if you need a permit to carry a feral cat concealed?

Shooting 'em is messy. Drowning or breaking their necks is quick and neat.

Howdy Amigo!
This is intended to be an alternative perspective, not a slight to you or anybody else in any way whatsoever.

Way I figure it is this. If I require respect for my life, I need to respect life generally. Even if it is only a critter.
So I don't easily take a life, even if it is just an animal. Yeah, the little #*&@$ attacked me, several times, and even viciously.
But he is young, and working to turn his life around. Sure he's made a mistake or several, but he's working to turn his life around and will eventually become a model feline citizen!